Hide and Seek
by ImpulsiveWriter321
Summary: Case after case after case. It's quite possible that Joan Watson has finally found a sense of normality in working with Sherlock Holmes. But when Irene Adler is finally found alive, a wrench is thrown into her perfect world. Yet when something doesn't seem right, will she risk the tender relationship she's made with Holmes? Or will she disappear all together? Joanlock!
1. Ghost

** This is my first time ever writing Elementary and I'm planning it as I write! I hope you like it!**

** This will take place with Sherlock and Watson NOT KNOWING about Irene. Trust me, it's going to work out and Joanlock will be end game! It's just going to take a while to get there. Also, the action starts right away because since you're reading this I'm guessing you know a bit about the characters and the plot lines so I don't have to spend four chapters setting all that up. Thank you so much for reading!**

** Disclaimer: Anything you recognize (either character wise or plot wise) I don't own. Yet I own other characters and this plot line! If there's any correlation between my plot and anything that happened/will happen on the show it's completely coincidental! This will be only time I say all of this because it's a lot to say everything on every chapter. **

"Watson!"

Groaning, I rolled over and threw the nearest pillow over my head, trying to block out his booming voice. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before as Sherlock was busy downstairs banging around. It wasn't until he began to play his violin that I was able to succumb to the soft music.

Familiar footfalls echoed throughout the brownstone as Sherlock ascended the stairs and I took a deep breath before he burst through my door.

"Watson! Oh good, you're awake. When you didn't answer me earlier I thought something dreadful had happened."

Rolling back over, I got a glimpse of the small red numbers on my alarm clock. The time read 5:45.

"The only dreadful thing is that I'm actually awake right now." I groaned into the mattress. I couldn't see him, but I heard his quick footfalls make their way toward my closet.

"I got a call from detective Gregson."

The hangers in my closet made soft sounds as they were pushed together.

"You got a call this early in the morning?"

"He was planning on just leaving a message, believing I wouldn't be awake. Imagine his surprise when I answered. Here, these should do for today."

I felt a light breeze as he threw some articles of clothing at me. When I didn't move to grab them, I heard him give a little huff of annoyance.

"Shall I choose your undergarments, too?" He started shuffling toward my dresser and when I realized he had every intention of doing so I quickly jumped out of my bed.

"I'm up, I'm up! Don't you dare open that drawer, Holmes." He stepped away quickly, a look of relief on his face. "What, is the great Sherlock Holmes scared of bras and underwear?"

"Generally? No. Am I scared of yours? Yes."

Intrigued, I asked, "Why?

"I know that if I come anywhere near them without your consent I will be yelled at or hit."

"Both."

"Exactly. So do hurry. Gregson said there's a murder in a nearby neighborhood. And frankly, he's quite stumped."

"Why?"

"Dress first," he stated, gesturing quickly at my sleep deprived state. "Then we'll talk."

He practically skipped out of my room and didn't bother to close the door behind him. Sighing, I glanced at the light blue sweater and black leggings that Sherlock had thrown at me. Despite the early morning wake up call, I smiled. He chose my favorites.

A couple minutes later, I stepped down he stairs as the smell of coffee reached my nostrils. I found Sherlock in the living room, gently lowering a piece of lettuce into Clyde's cage. Clyde eagerly reached up his neck to grab his breakfast.

"One of the cups on the table is yours," he said without turning around. I glanced to the table to see two cups of coffee steaming. I immediately grabbed the closest one.

"Thank you." I took a quick sip and grinned. I may make the best breakfast, but Sherlock did make great coffee. "Now, why is Gregson stuck on this murder?"

"The man's a ghost." Sherlock replied as he stepped away from Clyde's cage and grabbed his own coffee. He already had his long coat on and his shoes. I shook my head at his impatientness.

"What do you mean a ghost?"

"They can't find anything on him. He was found in an alleyway between two households, shot twice in the chest. No identification, no wallet, nothing. They ran his fingerprints and found nothing. His face will probably be sent out everywhere soon to try to identify him."

"Weird," I muttered as he walked by me toward the front door.

"Very," I followed him and watched as he set his coffee down and grabbed my coat. I set my half drained cup next to his empty one and allowed him to slip the material over my arms.

"Any evidence?"

"None. The casings were taken and no weapon was recovered."

"We've got our work cut out for us." I said sarcastically as Sherlock threw open the door.

"Most definitely. Quite exciting, isn't it Watson?"

I could see the light behind his eyes and barely smiled at his childlike excitement.

"A man is dead."

"The only downfall," he shrugged.

"Come on detective. We have a ghost to identify."

"And a murderer to catch."

The ride was quick and it wasn't long until we found the flashing lights. Gregson was standing on the sidewalk, talking to an uniformed officer. Once he saw us approaching, he waved the officer away.

"Thanks for getting here so quickly." He grinned at me as I yawned. "Late night, Ms. Watson?"

"You could say that," I muttered, sending a glare toward Sherlock who was already walking around the body. Gregson chuckled in understanding.

"Gregson!" Following Gregson under the yellow tape, we found Sherlock kneeling by the man's hand. I quickly saw what had caught Sherlock's attention. A white rose laid in the man's had, with small droplets of blood staining the pure white.

"Yeah, we don't know," Bell's voice came from behind us. "That's the only clue we've got."

"Any idea about it, Holmes?" Gregson wondered.

"Not at the moment. Any case files with flowers left behind?"

"Not that I'm aware of, but I've got guys looking into it."

"Come here, Watson." Shuffling around the body, I squatted next to Sherlock. "See here, look at the petals."

Looking close, I noticed that while most of the rose was white, the tips were red. "So, either it was a red rose stained white or it's a white rose and the killer stained the tips red. Why does it matter?"

"Since they took the time to stain a rose at all, it's possible that this is the killer's MO. Meaning, he or she will probably kill again."

"Great," Gregson groaned.

"What do we do with it?" I asked. Sherlock looked like he was about to answer but then closed his mouth.

"I haven't the foggiest idea yet."

"Well, when you figure something out, you can let me know. I'm going to take a look around."

He didn't answer, simply nodding stiffly. I left him with Gregson and Bell and walked toward the other end of the alleyway, away from the street. I wasn't finding much, but if I learned anything from Sherlock it was to look at everything twice, maybe even three times. I looked closely at the dumpsters and kept walking, the voices getting quieter behind me. The alleyway went on forever, twisting around other buildings. I soon lost sight of the crime scene and came to a dead end behind an old building with a simple wooden door in the middle of the wall. I door was slightly ajar so I walked a little closer. Something glittered on the ground so I bent down to investigate. It was a small shell casing and a closer look at the door's lock proved that the killer must have shot off the lock to get inside and that's how he or she escaped. Standing and turning around, I opened my mouth to yell to Sherlock, but before I could I felt something cold and hard press against my back.

"Come quietly and quickly, and I won't harm you. Yet."

I didn't dare turn around and I didn't dare scream. I allowed him to pull my slightly backwards and just as I was about to brace my arm and strike, he raised his arm and struck me in the back of the head. I laid on the ground in pain for only a moment...then everything went black.


	2. Moriarty

**I went back and forth about having chapters in Sherlock's POV. At first, I wanted it to all be in Joan's POV, but then the idea of delving into Sherlock's mind was way to tempting. So, here we go! Thank you for the kind reviews! I hope I at least got some of his personality right…it's hard to write as him!**

**Sherlock's POV**

"Watson!" I yelled. Instinctively, I assumed she'd be by my side within five to ten seconds, depending on how far she'd walked, so that I could ask her if she was hungry but she did not appear. Raising my head, I looked around for her dark hair and bright blue sweater. I had a tendency of choosing brighter clothes for her in case I needed to find her quickly. It really was a hinderance when she wore gray or black and then she blended into the officers.

"Missing something, Holmes?" Bell asked, coming up beside me.

"Someone actually. Have you see Watson?" I stood, turning my body full around in my search.

"I haven't seen her since she started walking down the alleyway."

I paused. "Did someone go with her?"

"No, she went alone." Bell cocked his head at me. "Why?"

"Watson!" I called again, walking swiftly the way she had gone.

"I'm sure she's on her way, Holmes, your voice carries easily." Bell scoffed as he followed me.

"She knows her training. If she's too far away to be in my sight line quickly after I call to her she is to call to me to let me know she is safe."

"Safe? Dude, we're at a crime scene, not a gun fight."

I tuned him out. I had gotten very good at disregarding any voice I didn't want to listen to. The only voice that still broke through my carefully crafted mental wall was Watson's and I was still trying to figure why that was.

"Watson!" I yelled, this time a bit more frantic. She knew not to go too far…but what was I saying? She was a grown woman, she could do what she wanted. Why did I care if she strayed too far from me? She wasn't a child.

Bell shuffled next to me, and that made my heart drop even more than it already had. If Bell had truly believed that Watson was fine, he would have turned back and headed to where he was really needed. Yet, he stayed with me.

He was looking for her, too.

"Holmes." Bell pointed forward toward a large brick building with a wooden back door. The lock shimmered on the ground and the door looked like it had been pushed open recently. Bell drew his gun…while my mind blanked.

"Are you coming?" Bell whispered. I hadn't noticed that he had stepped forward and had every intention of entering the building. When did he do that?

"Yes," I muttered. Bell entered first, slightly pushing the door with his shoulder. I squinted to see into the dark building as Bell scanned the building for any threat.

"Looks clear. Is there a light in here?" He said it was clear, but he didn't lower his weapon. He kept it raised as he felt along the wall, searching for a switch. I suddenly had a feeling of dread as he searched and I almost stopped him from trying to find a source of light. My brain was telling me I didn't want to see what was in this room. Could Joan be in here?

"There you are." Light suddenly flooded the room and we both blinked a couple times at the sudden change. Bell rubbed his eyes as he spoke. "Anything interesting?"

Opening my eyes completely, I froze solid. The room was bare except for one element. A body laid slumped on the ground, a small pool of blood forming around the body's head.

Her head.

Joan's head.

"Joan," I croaked. I ran forward, hearing Bell's gasp of surprise from behind me. He fumbled for his radio as I slid to my knees next to Joan, frantically searching her neck for a pulse. When I found one, my heart rate slowed, but not by much.

"Joan? Joan, can you hear me?" I cradled her head in my arms, my nimble fingers searching for the source of the blood. I quickly found a medium sized gash on the back of her head. She moaned a bit when I touched her wound, and I quickly tried to soothe her.

"Gregson, we've got a problem. Follow the alleyway until you get to a wooden door and bring the medics. Joan's hurt."

"Joan, open your eyes. Open your eyes for me." I whispered in her ear, desperately searching for some sort of response. Her eyelids fluttered and I clutched her tighter.

"Is she okay?" Bell crouched next to me, his hand reaching out to rest on Joan's arm.

"She'll live," I breathed. "She probably has a concussion of some sort, I'm not sure. She's the one that usually can tell those things."

Bell gave a look that I couldn't quite place. "She's going to be okay, Holmes, you said it yourself. She's going to be okay."

No matter how many times I repeated that sentence in my head, I couldn't quite seem to accept it.

Suddenly, the door behind us burst open and Gregson stood ready with his gun outstretched.

"It's find, captain! We're over here!" Bell stood and waved. The medics came first and I reluctantly handed Joan over to them.

"What happened?" Gregson demanded as the medics loaded Joan on a stretcher and began carrying her away.

"We don't know, we found her this way. Sherlock got concerned when he couldn't find her so we started searching…" I could tell that Gregson wasn't quite listening to Bell anymore. I could feel his gaze on me but my eyes were fixed on the stretcher they were carrying out the door.

"Go with them, Holmes. Bell and I will take care of the scene here and then we'll fill you in. You can even come back and look at it if you want."

His statement broke me out of my stupor and I quickly glanced behind me at the simple scene - only a small pool of blood in an otherwise empty room.

"No, no. I'll let the NYPD take this one, it's pretty…self explanatory," I said, my hand waving in the air. I noticed it was a bit of a nervous tick and the idea didn't seem to escape Gregson's eyes either.

"We'll take care of it." He said with conviction, silently promising me I wouldn't have to come here again. I didn't want to admit it, but I was grateful.

Nodding stiffly, I ran after the medics and caught them as they were lifting the stretcher into the ambulance. I gently grabbed a medic's shoulder.

"Is it possible for me to accompany you?"

"How are you related to her?" The medic asked professionally.

"I'm her…" What was I to her? A partner, a companion, a hassle? It hurt me to realize I didn't really know.

"I'm her friend." I finally said. "We work together."

The medic nodded and stood aside to allow me to pull myself into the ambulance. Joan looked better than she had in the building and now it looked more like she was sleeping and less like she was…

The doors closed with a thud and I gently took her hand.

"She'll be alright," A nurse said with a smile as she held an oxygen mask to Joan's face.

"Yes, I should hope so," I responded, squeezing Joan's hand. It was probably just my mind working overtime and my thoughts flowing together, but I thought I felt her squeeze back.

I had to leave her for a while at the hospital as they got her checked in. With my heart fluttering, I sat in an uncomfortable waiting room chair and ran a shaking hand through my hair. As everything came into focus about the day, I found myself thinking thoughts I didn't necessarily want to think at the moment.

Why would someone hurt Joan? I was sure Joan had nothing to do with the murder we were investigating. Could it have just been a coincidence? Had the killer been hiding in that building and Joan interrupted him or her? A fight of flight response and the killer could have done both.

Joan had to have stumbled upon something or someone, otherwise she wouldn't have been left like that. But that raised the question…why didn't they kill her? She'll wake up and tell us what happened and what she saw. Unless that was what the killer wanted to happen.

There was also the possibility that whoever attacked Joan was not the person who killed our mystery man. It could have been just a strange and unfortunate accident. But what was the chances of that?

An outsider would ask me why I cared. Joan Watson was my partner and nothing more to the outside world but they didn't see what transpired inside the brownstone. They didn't see the hot cups of coffee that were left by my form in the mornings. They didn't see the stack of blankets that were left up on the roof for whenever I stayed up there on chilly nights. They didn't see the neat stack of books next to the armchair I moved closer to the fire, just because she liked to be warm when she read. They didn't see the little corner I left in my study, so that she would have a place to work that I wouldn't touch. They didn't see the banter that made my lips twinge upward or the intelligent conversation that made her eyes light up.

They don't know the way we work.

Leaning forward, I rubbed my face as I tried to categorize these thoughts. Why did I care about Joan? She got to me and to this day I couldn't figure how she did. There had only been one other person who had gotten to me, who had discovered me, who I had let in…and who had broke me.

Clenching my fists, I made my mind travel down a different path. I wasn't going to go down that one, not again. It already gave me enough nightmares.

"Holmes!" Bell's voice reached my ears and I looked up, seeing him and Gregson walking toward me. Standing, I took a deep breath.

"What did you find?"

"Nothing. That places was literally bare." Bell growled. He was angry and I didn't blame him. I was as well.

"We have units canvasing the area. They're looking everywhere and asking questions to everyone."

"Good," I sighed, sinking back down into my chair.

"Any news on Ms. Watson?" Gregson asked softly as he and Bell took a seat on either side of me. He was the only one who still called her by a professional name. Even Bell had taken to calling her Watson. Which reminded me - when had I begun to call her Joan?

"None, yet. They said they were come and find me when - when I could see her." I stuttered as my gaze flittered to the ground. Neither spoke, but I could feel their gazes on me. We were silent for a few moments until my phone buzzed in my pocket. I considered ignoring it, but as the gazes on my back grew hotter I slipped it out and looked at the screen. An unknown number stared back at me but I slid my finger across the accept button anyway.

"Hello, this is Sherlock Holmes." I muttered.

"Hello, Sherlock." A deep male voice came over the line.

"Hello, now who might I be speaking to?" I said, my frustration growing. I just wanted those doctors to walk through the doors.

"Oh I forget, we have not talked before. You see, you know who I am, but not by my voice." Only now I noticed that the voice seemed a little…automated.

"No, I don't believe we've spoken before so I'll ask again. Who are you?"

The voice laughed. "Oh my dear Holmes…how awful it is that not even you can deduce who I am. I am the one responsible for the death of your dear love."

Every vein in my body froze solid. Two pairs of eyes bore into me, pleading for answers. My partner, my friend, was waiting in a hospital room injured and I never imagined that he could have been the one who put her there.

"Do tell me, Sherlock, how is Joan?"

Ignoring Gregson and Bell, my eyes hardened and my hand clenched.

"Moriarty."

**I hope that went all right! I'm heading into my freshman year of college for creative writing so fan fiction is my place where I'm testing everything out. It was fun writing as Sherlock and I think I'll definitely write as him again. I hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Tangle

**Thank you all for the views and reviews! This story is turing into one of my favorites to write, along with 100 Things About Annie in the Covert Affairs category. Thanks again! I promise I won't leave so many cliffhangers. ;) P.S. This will end up with Irene being who she actually is in the show. So, if you haven't watched the show, there will be spoilers! But not for a few more chapters…actually, a lot more. But just a warning!**

**Sherlock's POV**

"Quite correct, Mr. Holmes. It's been a while since we've had contact hasn't it?"

I could feel my teeth clenching together as Gregson and Bell leaned closer, trying to hear the conversation.

"What do you want?" I growled.

"Just a favor, that's all."

"And what makes you think I would do a favor for you?"

"It's something that helps both of us, trust me." I stood and started pacing, thankful there wasn't anyone else in the waiting room.

"Did you kill that man?"

"The man you found in the alleyway? No, unfortunately you need to keep searching for that murderer. And I can anticipate your next question. Did I harm Joan? I myself did not, but one of my henchmen did, yes."

"Why?" I breathed through my nose, my mouth now barely working.

"To get your attention."

"You seem to be doing that just fine by _calling_ me," I seethed.

"Holmes, who is it?" Gregson asked. I ignored him.

"You needed to know what I was capable of. I'm sure my man didn't harm her too badly, if he did he wasn't supposed to."

"So you're saying if I don't help you…"

"I can hurt her more. And others as well. Are Mr. Gregson and Mr. Bell with you?" I stared at them. "And what about your brother, Mycroft? I hear he's doing well."

"You can't hurt everybody." Gregson stood at that as Bell just looked on.

"But I can. And I will. Now, will you hear my proposition or not?"

I didn't respond right away. Every fiber in my being was telling me not to help this man. He had killed Irene. He had taken away everything I had lived for. He was the one who had pushed me into the downward spiral that would have taken my life if Joan hadn't intervened.

Joan.

I couldn't let him hurt anyone else. Not again.

"Fine. What do you want?"

"There's a man by the name of Liam Barwright. Recently he's dropped off the radar and I need you to find him."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Fine. I accept."

"Good. I'll expect updates every once in a while, and I do hope you find him alive."

"What is he to you?"

A pause. "A friend. Nothing more."

Then the line went dead. With a shaking hand, I let the phone drop from my ear.

"What the hell just happened?" Gregson spat.

"Moriarty." I answered, sliding back into my chair.

"Who's Moriarty?" Bell asked, searching my face.

"He's…he's an old enemy of mine."

"Old enemy? That doesn't sound good," Gregson sighed as he sat himself next to me.

"No, it's not. He killed someone very close to me a while ago."

Bell looked up. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "I've spent a lot of time trying to find this man…to avenge Irene." I hadn't even noticed I had spoken her name until Gregson asked.

"Who's Irene?"

"The woman he killed. You…you could say I loved her." I said reluctantly.

The air was silent. I could tell their brains were working, trying to figure how a man like me could love anyone. But they didn't pry.

"What did he want?"

"A favor. I'm to find a man named Liam Barwright. And that's all."

"You said that he couldn't hurt _everyone_. Did he threaten someone?" Gregson inquired, his hand automatically dropping to his holster.

"He…he may have waged a proposition. But as long as I do as he asks, no one will be harmed."

"You _think_ no one will be harmed." Gregson corrected.

"I will protect them - "

"You can't protect everyone. Even with us helping you."

"Who said I need help?" I glared at him. I respected Gregson, I did, but he knew when to press my buttons.

"You're going to need our help. And besides, this man attacked one of _our," _ he gestured to Bell and himself, "consultants. That means we're automatically assigned to the case."

"Or taken off of it."

"If we're taken off the case of who attacked Joan, so are you. Conflicting morals."

I stared at him. He had a point. If I didn't let them help they would just strip me off the case and it would that much more difficult to run my operation.

"Ok, fine. You can help. It's just…I know this man. I know how he operates. He's dangerous and intelligent. You could say there's only two other people with a brain that works like mine. Irene…and him."

"That's a lot of brains working like that. I thought you had a rare brain," Bell joked. His point was made however. Three of the greatest brains the world had ever seen…and somehow we were all linked together. It was a bit suspicious.

"Mr. Holmes?" I looked up at my name, and my heart leaped at the sight of a doctor standing near the edge of the waiting room. Standing, I crossed over to him.

"That's me. And this is detective Gregson and detective Bell."

"We're friends of Ms. Watson as well," Gregson supplied.

"Well, she can see all of you now. She's awake, but she doesn't remember much."

I cringed a little. I had hoped that Joan was able to at least give us a description of who had attacked her. But maybe a little time would refresh her memory.

"This way," the doctor led us through the double doors and through a maze of hallways until we reached a room at the end of one of the halls. I stepped in first, my breath hitching at what I saw.

She looked so much smaller while hooked up to all the machines. The wires ran around her like race tracks and at the moment she was fussing with one of them.

"Stupid things…always get tangled," she muttered. I couldn't help but chuckle as she messed with the tangled tube. Hearing my voice, her head shot up.

"Sherlock," she breathed. I tried to ignore the way my heart swelled when she said my name.

"I suppose you don't miss these?" I asked, coming to stand next to her on the bed and gently taking her hands. I quickly unwrapped the tube from around the other one it was attached to and laid it straight.

"Thanks," she whispered. "Hey, Bell. Gregson."

"Hey, girl. How do you feel?" Bell asked, laying his hand gently on her arm again.

"Fine. Well, as fine as I can. Any leads on our dead guy?"

Typical Joan. Worrying about everyone else before she worried about herself.

"Not yet. We were more focused on you." Gregson said.

"Don't be, it's not that big of a deal." She shrugged. My hands tightened around hers involuntarily and she noticed. "What's wrong?"

My eyes caught Gregson's and he nodded. We had to tell her but that didn't mean I wanted to. I had worked so hard to keep Joan away from my past life. I wanted her to know the Sherlock Holmes that was in the present, not the one that was in the past. But I couldn't keep it from her forever, no matter how hard I tried. And Irene wasn't a topic that I was very open to talking about.

"Bell, why don't you and I go get some coffee?"

"What - " Bell began. Gregson's face said it all. "Right, sure. We'll be back soon."

Bell smiled at Joan as he and Gregson left the room.

"Why did they leave? Sherlock, what's going on?" Her bright eyes bore into mine and suddenly my mouth became dry.

"Well, there's…there's been a bit of a problem." I sighed.

"Problem? With what?"

"Not with what…with who." She didn't speak, so I continued. "I got a call from an old enemy of mine…his name is Moriarty."

I had to look away from her. Her gaze was too sharp, too pure. I felt her hands squeeze mine.

"What did he do to you?" She asked quietly. She didn't care about who he was, she was more worried about me. Typical.

"Would you believe me if I said that, even with my type of personality, I did love someone? She was intelligent and charming, and she kept me at my wits end."

"I believe that."

I looked at her quickly, trying to find a hint of a lie on her face. There was none.

"Her name was Irene. Moriarty, he - he killed her." The grimace on Joan's face was faint, and she quickly masked her face again. "I've been searching for the bastard ever since."

"That's why you moved to New York."

"Partly. My father was the other reason. He believed that London was too toxic for me after the aftermath of Irene's death and I didn't disagree." I was grateful that Joan didn't ask about the aftermath. I hadn't taken me long to find the drugs after Irene was killed.

"Have you had any leads on where he might be? You said he called you?" I could tell she wanted to pry for more. More about Irene, more about Moriarty.

"Yes, he did. He had a favor to ask of me."

"A favor? He kills the love of your life and then asks you for a favor?" There was something in Joan's tone that I had never heard from her before. Rage. Barely controlled rage.

"He made a very…convincing argument."

"What kind of argument could he possibly make?" She spat. How could she be this angry at a man she's never even met?

"He said that if I didn't agree…he'd start hurting people. Just like he hurt…" I trailed off, looking her in the eye. It was her this time that looked away.

"He was the one who hit me?"

"Not him specifically. One of his henchmen. But he was the one who made it happen." I whispered.

She didn't respond right away and I clutched onto her hands, not wanting her to pull away.

"What did he ask you to do?" She whispered, her soft voice breaking the silence. I cleared my throat before answering.

"He wants me to find a man named Liam Barwright and disclose his location to him. Apparently, they're _friends._" I rolled my eyes. A man like Moriarty shouldn't have friends.

"So, we should start looking at old case files, both in America and Britain. If he's a friend of Moriarty he probably has some sort of criminal past. Although it may be covered up - "

"Joan. What are you talking about?" I asked incredulously. She narrowed her eyes at me.

"You said Moriarty asked you to find this guy and even though I think you shouldn't let him mess with you…we're going to find him."

"Joan," I shook my head, "I already have Gregson and Bell forcing themselves on this. We'll take care of it. You rest and - "

"No."

I cocked my head at her.

"What?"

"No."

"Why?" I whispered. Couldn't she see that I was trying to protect her?

"This man hurt you. I'm not going to let him get away with it. We'll find Liam, hopefully alive, and then we can force him to bring us to Moriarty."

"He may not even know where Moriarty is."

"I bet he does. If they're friends, he'll at least know a general locations or places he's been before. That at least gives us a lead. What about the guy in the alleyway? What's going to happen to his case?"

"I assume Gregson is going to give it to another detective. I don't assume he wants to take on two big cases at once."

"Unless they're related."

"Moriarty said he didn't kill the man. But he may have had a part in it."

"So," she squirmed a little. "We'll keep an eye on that case but focus on this one. When are they springing me from this hell hole?"

I noticed how her voice got darker when she spoke of being released. I knew that she had a certain dislike for hospitals after her accident…but I never guessed that she despised them.

"No word yet. I'm assuming soon, since you have no lasting condition. They just need to watch for a concussion."

"Pretty sure I already have one. I know what to do, so why don't they let me go?" She asked and suddenly I realized something else. She didn't just have a hate for hospitals…she was scared of them.

"It's alright, Joan. You won't be here for long." I slid my thumb over her hand, trying to calm her. By watching her heart rate monitor, her heart rate had picked up a bit.

"Good. Are…are you staying here?" Her eyes looked hopeful but then she quickly shook her head. "Never mind, I'm sure you want to get started on this case. Go, but call me if you find anything."

I chuckled. "My dear Watson, I'm not going anywhere."

She looked at me carefully. "Really?"

"Sleep. I'll be right here."

As she slid deeper into the bed I heard her mutter, "I don't need a babysitter."

And as her eyes started to slide shut I whispered, "I know."

**It's not a cliffhanger! :) Thank you for reading and reviews are appreciated! **


	4. Nightmare

**Quick note! I want this to go along a little with the show, so some lines from the show may be used in this story. More specifically the promise he makes to Joan and then the way they find Irene and yada yada. The only differences will be how they find out who she is.**

**Joan's POV**

I walked through the brownstone with the slight patter of rain hitting the windows. It was quiet and dark and my heart was racing. I slipped down the stairs quietly, as if I feared that someone would hear me.

"Sherlock?" I whispered. He had to be around here somewhere, didn't he? Where else would he be?

_Chasing Moriarty, _a small voice said in my head.

"No," I said aloud. "It's too dangerous for him to go alone."

I walked faster, expecting to find Sherlock in the kitchen or in the living room. I slid into the kitchen, eyes wide. When he wasn't there I turned frantically, calling his name.

_He's gone. He's gone._

"No, he's okay. I just - I just have to find him."

_You won't._

I ran into the parlor, looking through the piles of books and case files that were thrown around the room. Not even the fire was roaring on this cold night.

"Sherlock!" I yelled again.

_You're too late._

"No!" I gripped my hair, trying to think. He would be here, he would be here…

The roof.

I sprinted for the stairs, the voice in my head telling me to stop.

_You won't like what you find. He's gone…_

I got to the top of the stairs.

_He's gone._

I flung open the door.

_He's gone._

I ran out onto the roof, toward his towers of bees. They buzzed as I came near, but I slowed as I saw a shoe sticking out from behind one of the towers. It was his. I ran around the tower and froze.

_He's gone._

Sherlock laid in a pool of blood, his face white.

"No!" I screamed, dropping to my knees. I searched for a pulse but there wasn't one. I pushed on his chest, hoping to shake him awake. Blood pooled from two open wounds in his chest. He was shot.

"No, no, no! Please!"

_You're too late._

"No!" I screamed. "No, It can't be! It can't be! He's alive, he's okay, he has to be! Please! No!"

I dropped my face closer to his, willing him to open his eyes. "Sherlock, please, no, please wake up. Please, Sherlock…Sherlock…"

_He's gone._

"Joan!" I shot up in bed, my head spinning. I blinked to focus my eyes, but my breathing was quick and uncontrolled. Hands grasped at mine as I thrashed, trying to figure out where I was.

"Joan, calm down. It's me, it's me!"

That voice. But there was no way…

"Sherlock?" I whispered.

"It's me." Suddenly, everything came into focus and Sherlock's face was mere centimeters from mine, his eyes full of concern. I couldn't help the tears that fell from my eyes.

"Sherlock," I breathed. Without thinking, I leaned into him, placing my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me slowly as if he were afraid he was going to break me.

"It was just a nightmare. It was only a dream." He repeated. His heart rate calmed me, lulling me into a sense of security.

"I know," My voice cracked. "I know."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I only realized then that it was still the middle of the night and Sherlock was still staying by my bedside. Either I had woken him up or he was awake to begin with.

"Not…not yet." I murmured.

"Okay." To say I was a bit surprised was an understatement. The Sherlock I knew would press for information and to discover what he could. He was letting me off now, letting me breathe.

I was grateful.

We sat like that for a couple minutes until the beeping from my heart rate monitor slowed. I was able to breathe normally now but the image of Sherlock bleeding out on the roof was still clear in my head. I fisted a bit of his plain white shirt into my hand and closed my eyes in an effort to force the image away. Sherlock just held me tighter.

"Thank you," I whispered into his chest.

"There's nothing to thank me for," His rough British accent filled my ears. I smiled, despite myself.

"Yes, there is." I pulled away then, wiping at my face. I didn't want to be weak in front of him. Not just because of a silly nightmare.

_But it wasn't silly, was it?_

I pushed the voice away.

I hadn't even noticed that Sherlock had taken my hand and was looking at me expectantly, as if he was waiting for something.

"I'm sorry…what did you say?" I sniffed.

"Are you okay?" He asked again softly.

"Yeah, yeah," I waved at him awkwardly. "I'm fine. Just a…rough night."

"Understandable." He nodded. He looked down at our intertwined hands and it was almost like he had just noticed that he was still holding me. He dropped it like it was a hot coal and my hand flopped stupidly back onto he bed.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked, trying to keep the slight hurt out of my voice.

"I couldn't simply leave you here alone, could I? Besides, it would be too boring at the brownstone." He looked away quickly at the last part, as if he was embarrassed.

Too quiet, he meant. It would be too quiet.

"Right." I smiled. I glanced around the room and noticed that there were plenty of files open on the floor. Apparently he wasn't sleeping after all. "Have you been looking at those all night?"

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder at the files. "Oh, yes. I haven't found anything useful however. I took your advice and asked Gregson to look into if Barwright had a criminal background. Nothing in America's database that we know of but he has a word in at Scotland Yard. I even got a call from our best friend." He spat.

"Gareth?" I wondered.

"He was the one who answered Gregson's call unfortunately. He's searching in London after Gregson told him what happened to you. Apparently, he's very interested in your well being."

Sherlock leaned back into his chair, breathing heavily.

"Hey," I placed my hand on his knee to calm him. "He's helping."

His eyes searched mine. "Yes, I suppose. Now, why don't you try to go back to sleep? You look like you need it."

"So do you," I retorted. His mouth slid into a grimace. I sighed. "I just mean, there's no way I'm going to fall asleep again now. Why don't you let me help you?"

I gestured toward all the open files and the piles of paper that looked like he hadn't even gotten to yet.

"Fine," he said after a beat. "But I'm not letting you stress yourself out."

He stood and grabbed a file of the pile and placed it in my lap.

"Some of these are possible crimes done by Moriarty's gang. Bell pulled them once I told him the type of crimes Moriarty would most likely commit. Others are possible leads on Barwright, although none of them have looked convincing so far."

I flipped through the file Sherlock had brought me. It was a robbery from five years prior, at an electronics shop. Everything seemed pretty cut and dry.

"This is going to take forever." I moaned.

"Tell me about it," Sherlock smirked. "Sure you don't want to sleep instead?"

"I told you, I'm fine." I muttered.

"It didn't seem that way as you were thrashing about in your sleep."

I looked at him sternly, but he didn't turn away.

"It was just a nightmare." He held my gaze.

"You don't often get nightmares."

"How do you know that?"

He opened his mouth to say something but he closed it again.

"Because I hear you, sometimes." He had the decency to at least look a little embarrassed.

"Heard me?"

"Those nights where you would retire to your room while I worked downstairs, which were quite often, I'd walk up to your room from time to time just…just to make sure you were okay." He said quietly. I didn't respond, as it looked like he had more to say. That, and I was a bit shocked.

"I'd hear you sometimes when you were having a nightmare. At first I just let you be, because I didn't want to overstep my boundary but one night…one night I just couldn't take it. You were…you were screaming."

How did I not know this? How did I not remember? And more importantly…why was he telling me?

"I don't remember having any nightmares where I would start screaming." I told him.

"Yes, I know. Otherwise it would have been a very awkward morning wouldn't it?" He arched an eyebrow at me and I realized it was his idea of a little joke. I smiled at him to humor him. "Anyway, one night it sounded like you were yelling to someone else. Telling them to…telling them to close the wound."

My eyes automatically hardened. I knew what he was getting at.

"I can only imagine it was because you were dreaming about that day when…well, you know."

That God awful day.

"The day I lost my patient." I said through bated breath. He looked at me like I was a tiger ready to pounce.

"Yes. So I went into your room and just…talked to you. Told you it was okay, that you were okay. That seemed to help, somewhat. You at least calmed down, but you didn't wake up. The next morning it was like nothing even happened so I assumed you hadn't remembered the dream."

I didn't speak for a moment. The idea that Sherlock would do something like that…it made my heart flutter slightly.

"Well…thank you." I managed. His eyes bore into mine.

"It was nothing." He turned away suddenly and he bit his lip. I knew him well enough to know that he was hiding something.

"What else?" I asked.

"What?" He asked without turning around. He had grabbed another file and was reading it.

"You're hiding something, I know it. You're biting your lip."

"And what, that's some sort of tell?"

"Yes, it is. And you know it." Sighing, he dropped the file to the ground and turned toward me again.

"Like I said, you don't usually have nightmares."

"Yes."

"Some are nonsensical, and the ones that I could make out were about your patient."

"Yes?" I questioned. He wasn't making any sense.

"But this one…" his voice dropped. "You - you yelled for me."

I froze. I hadn't thought about what else he had heard as I searched for him in my dream.

"So you can imagine my curiosity…yet I understand if you don't wish to speak. I - I wouldn't either. Not right away." We stayed in silence for a few more moments, until he grabbed another file and sat back down in his chair, like nothing even happened. I realized that he was fine if that was all that happened. He wouldn't press me anymore.

I stared at him and I noticed his lip twitched. He was still dying of curiosity and of concern.

"I couldn't find you." I whispered into the darkness. He slowly looked up at me, his eyes questioning. I looked away from him and stared out the window.

"I was in the brownstone and I was looking for you. I couldn't find you and this voice kept telling me…it kept telling me that you were gone."

He didn't move.

"I found you. On the roof. You…you were -" My breath hitched and I looked down at my hands.

"Dead." He whispered. I could only nod. He stood suddenly, crossing back over to the bed. He slid expertly into the small space next to me and wrapped me in his arms.

"I just…I just couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you, with Moriarty and everything…" I whispered.

"I'll be okay. You'll be okay. _We'll be okay._" He said into my hair. "We will take Moriarty down with the resources we have. Don't be scared."

"I'm not scared for me." I sniffed. "I'm scared for you. He wants to hurt you, that's why he's doing this." I pushed away a little so I could look him in the eye.

"I won't let him hurt me again, Joan. Not again." His eyes were hard.

"There are other ways to hurt you."

He was silent for a moment, but then he took my face in his hands.

"Joan. I promise you, when it comes to Moriarty, that I will not let any harm come to you. Ever. Do you understand?"

I didn't answer.

"Do you understand?" His voice was rough and thick and his eyes were alight.

"I understand."

He took a deep breath. To steady him, I slowly brought my own hand up and curled my fingers around his wrist. We breathed together for only a moment, then he dropped his hands.

"You should try to sleep. I need to call Gregson to see if he's found anything." He stood again, and I realized that I lost the Sherlock that had comforted me during my nightmare. He was back to his hardened shell, thinking about Moriarty. His words surprised me, though I guess they shouldn't have. Moriarty had threatened everyone, so it would make sense that Gregson and Bell were still up and working.

Sherlock strode out of the room, phone in hand. I watched him leave, a set of uneasiness filling my chest. I didn't like it when he was alone. I slid back into my bed, and tried to close my eyes. But every time I did, I saw him lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

So I kept my eyes open. I thought about the words he said, about how he would protect me.

_I promise you, when it comes to Moriarty, that I will not let any harm come to you. Ever._

When it came to Moriarty? What about when it came to anything else? Would he protect me then?

_Of course he wouldn't. He doesn't care about you that much. _

I quickly shook the voice out of my head. He cared. I know he did.

I laid back in the pillows and forced my eyes shut.

I know he did.

**I will be the first to admit that this is a filler chapter. XD I needed an interlude that involved Sherlock and Joan and I decided to get the promise in there and a little Joan whomp. Did anyone else notice that veiled promise Sherlock made? Hmmm…still love him though. :) Hope you liked it!**


	5. Hardware

**Joan's POV**

I hadn't thought that hospitals would have affected me that much.

Truthfully, I had barely been in a hospital since I was put on suspension. There would be the occasional instance where a case would bring me to one or I went in for a check up. But I had never been assigned to a bed where doctors would check on me occasionally and I'd look around and see all the pain and misery I thought I had left behind. I was fine when I used to be one of the doctors and the pain wasn't as present. I could go home and relax or go out with friends and forget the faces of the sick or injured.

I definitely wasn't ready for the onslaught of pain my brain could put me through.

When the doctor came in the morning I was to be discharged and said they needed to take some last minute blood work to double check some things, I wasn't expecting my heart rate to speed up. I wasn't expecting my hands to start sweating.

And I definitely wasn't expecting my anxiety levels to go through the roof.

Sherlock was talking to Gregson and Bell out in the hall, so he didn't notice my distress as the doctor pulled a needle out of a nearby drawer.

_Get yourself together, Joan. You did the same thing plenty of times before. _

That didn't stop me from recoiling a bit when he touched my arm.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his concerned eyes reaching mine.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just haven't been pricked with a needle in a while, that's all." I lied. I tried to watch as he stuck the needle in my arm but at the last moment I had to look away. But then my eyesight landed on another doctor wheeling a patient to a different room.

I shut my eyes quickly.

"Alright, all done. We'll get this into your file and get you out of here as soon as possible."

"Good." I muttered. I fisted my hands into my gown, cursing at how thin it was. My hands were still sweaty and I hadn't realized I was shaking. I bit my lip, trying to get myself to calm down.

_You've been in many hospitals since you're accident. You handled those just fine. What's different now?_

What was different?

I was weak. I was vulnerable. Just like my patient had been.

The tables were turned.

Sherlock glanced over Gregson's shoulder at me and his gaze was like ice. He narrowed his eyes at me as I stared back. I didn't look away though, as the sight of him allowed me to take deeper breaths.

He excused himself from his conversation and made his way over to me, sitting next to me on the bed.

"Are you alright?"

"Would you be surprised if I told you that you're the second person to ask me that today already?" I chuckled lightly.

"You just look..tense." He whispered, ignoring my attempt at a light conversation.

"I'm just…ready to be out of here." I admitted. His eyes fluttered down to where I kept clutching my gown. Moving slowly, he wrapped his own hands around mine and made me let go.

"You're okay, you know that right?" He asked.

"I know. At least, my body does. My brain doesn't."

"Just relax. You'll be out of here soon."

"Easy for you to say," I scoffed. My breathing hitched as I saw a young girl sitting with what seemed to be her father in the waiting room, a large bouquet of balloons sitting next to them with the words _It's a Girl!_ written on them.

Why did such the littlest, and happiest, things get to me?

"Joan. Look at me, look at me." He grabbed my chin gently and pulled my face so that I was looking at him. He studied my face for a moment, like he was trying to decipher what was going through my head and suddenly I felt a flash of anger. How dare he think that he can just solve me like he solves a case? Finally, he sighed.

"It's just your brain playing tricks on you, Joan. You're not in any physical danger, nor are you being harassed in anyway. Hospitals now just hold bad memories for you and all you have to do is overcome those memories. It takes time, trust me, but I know you can do it."

He looked at me unwaveringly. I know what he said was true, but I didn't like admitting that I was weak. So I decided to comment on something else I picked up on.

"When did you start calling me Joan?"

His eyes widened for a split second, then his face returned to normal.

"What ever do you mean, Watson?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but then the same doctor came back with my final file and handed me the papers to sign. I didn't even listen as he told me everything he was paid to say. I knew it all anyway, so I quickly signed when I had to.

"Ready to go home, Ms. Watson?" Gregson asked with a smile as he handed me a bag full of my clothes.

"Courtesy of Ms. Hudson. She went through your closet once I told her you were being discharged and she chose that outfit for you to wear." Sherlock explained. I smiled as I looked through the bag. A simple outfit that was comfortable. I had to remember to thank her later.

"Any news on Liam Barwright?" I asked after I had changed into better clothes.

"Actually, yes. We found a possible alias that he used in America that is linked to a series of robberies. Plenty of hardware stores were robbed."

"What was taken?"

Sherlock's mouth thinned. "Nothing good."

"If you put together everything that was stolen from the hardware stores, you get the perfect combination of items to make at least a dozen bombs." Gregson said with a thick voice.

I was silent for a moment.

"A dozen?"

"And those robberies happened a couple months ago. Who knows now how many more the robber could make." Bell supplied as we walked toward the sliding glass doors that led outside. Once we stepped through and the cool air hit my face, I was finally able to breathe normally again.

"That's to say the robber is even making bombs. He could have just really needed the equipment for something else." I said. "And how are you so sure this robber is Liam Barwright?"

"We didn't until we looked at the most recent robbery," Sherlock held open a car door for me and I slipped in as Gregson and Bell slid in the front. Sherlock stepped in after me and his arm barely brushed mine for a moment. I stiffened at the sudden contact and relaxed when he shut his door behind him and leaned against the door.

"How so?" I coughed.

"A flower was found next to the hardware store. A white rose with - "

"Red tips." Sherlock smirked at me.

"You're catching on."

"So, Moriarty did have something to do with the man we found in the alleyway?" I asked. "I thought he said he didn't."

"He said he didn't kill the man. He never said he didn't have anything to do with it."

"So, now we have two big mysteries. Has it occurred to you that maybe the dead man _is_ Liam Barwright? That maybe Moriarty is just sending us on a wild goose chase?"

"But why?" Sherlock asked, his eyes bright. "For the first time since I've known the man, he sounded legitimately concerned about this man. Why would he have him killed?"

"No idea," I sighed, leaning against the seat.

"I say we check out the last hardware store first. Hopefully, something there will point us in the right direction." Gregson looked at me from the rearview mirror. "You alright to do some work today, Ms. Watson?"

I caught Sherlock's quick glance from the corner of my eye.

"Of course."

It didn't take long to reach the hardware store. The robbery had only happened a couple days ago, so it fell right in line with our murder.

"Maybe our dead guy was a partner of Barwright?" I speculated. "And something went down between them?"

"Maybe," Sherlock nodded as Gregson parked the car. He was quick to open the door and step out. I followed him and noticed the front window was missing.

"What happened to the window?"

"This robbery wasn't as…sophisticated as the others. Window was blown out with a gun and he was in and out before the police arrived." Bell supplied.

"Why the change? Time restraint?"

"Most likely." Sherlock answered as he walked through the front door. It had been shut down because of the window so luckily we had the place to ourselves. Sherlock was off looking at other things so I turned to Gregson.

"Where was the flower found?"

"Over here." He motioned for me to follow him. He led me outside to where the window would have been.

"The flower was sitting among the glass."

I could imagine the sight. A small hardware store with it's alarm blaring and window blown open, a small flower sitting within the glass. Wait.

"Gregson?"

"Yeah?" He lifted his head from where he was reading a message on his phone.

"You said the flower was sitting in the glass?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes? What about it?"

"Meaning…the glass was outside? Not inside the store?"

Gregson lowered his phone, only now realizing what I was getting at.

"Yes."

"So…if he shot the window to get inside, wouldn't most of the glass have been inside the store?"

"The bullet casing was found outside of the store." He played Devil's advocate, walking toward the window and glaring at it like it was going to give him more answers.

"It's very easy to cover your hand, pick up a casing, and throw it somewhere else."

"But when he was about to be caught? Why risk the time? And why have us believe that he show the window to get in?"

"I don't know." Sighing, I motioned to Sherlock to join me. Once he appeared at my side, I relayed my theory. He didn't answer right away, but he did stare at the window like Gregson had.

"Interesting theory, Watson. And also very probable. If he shot from here," he lifted his arms as if he were holding a gun. "The glass would mostly be inside the store, not outside. And looking at the pictures, a majority of the glass is laying on the grass."

"So, he more than likely shot from inside the store." Sherlock nodded tersely.

"Did he fire to get out…or did he fire at someone else?" Bell asked, joining us.

"Most likely at someone else. If he was able to get in without setting off an alarm, he would have escaped the same way. Avoid suspicion." Sherlock waved his arm as he spoke, walking around in small circles. It was his way of running through his thoughts. But his words struck a thought.

"What if he didn't want to avoid suspicion?" Sherlock stopped pacing and his eyes shot up to look at me. "I mean, the only time a flower was found at one of the robberies was this one. And it seems to be the most…unorganized. What if he shot the window…because he wanted to lay another piece in a puzzle. He wanted to link the robberies to Moriarty."

Sherlock looked at me with hard eyes as Bell nodded in understanding.

"That would make sense. If Liam is our robber and is working with Moriarty, the flower makes sense. Something else must be happening soon."

"Sherlock?" I asked, my eyes never leaving his. He breathed in suddenly, seeming to finally unlock from his trance.

"Yes, that makes sense. So, we're assuming Liam Barwright is our robber. Gregson, is there any way to get surveillance cameras from these robberies to see if we can get a face?"

"Police have been over them and over them. These robberies happened all over America. But, I'll see how many I can get."

My phone started vibrating in my pocket. I slid it out and looked at the unknown number.

"I'll be right back," I waved my phone in the air in explanation and walked a good distance away from the boys. I slid my finger quickly across the screen and brought the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Is this Joan Watson?" An unfamiliar voice fluttered over the line.

"Yes, this is she. Who is this?"

"Are you truly working with Sherlock Holmes?"

I tensed. "Who is this?"

"It's okay, I know you are. Can you join me at the coffee shop at Main and Woodbury?"

"Why should I meet you if I have no idea who you are?" I whispered, not wanting the others to overhear.

"Because…I hear you're looking for me."

My breath hitched. "Moriarty?"

"No. Liam Barwright. Come alone."

The line suddenly went dead and it took me a moment to finally lower my arm from my ear. I walked back to the boys, and my distress must have been evident on my face.

"Everything okay?" Gregson asked. I looked up quickly, trying to mask my discomfort.

"Um, yeah. I just got…really tired all of the sudden."

"Go home! Rest!" Sherlock called from inside the store. I hadn't even realized he had gone back inside.

"He's right, Joan. Go rest. We'll take care of things here." Bell smiled. I smiled back and turned toward the store.

"Don't get into trouble, Holmes!" I called.

"Whatever do you mean, Watson?" He yelled back. I grinned.

"Need a ride?" Gregson asked.

"I'd rather walk. It's a nice day and I need the fresh air."

Once I turned from them, the smile fell from my face. I knew Sherlock would be angry for me not telling him that Liam had called me, if it really was Liam on the other end of the line. But he asked me to come alone, and this was our biggest lead to figure out where Moriarty was. I took a deep breath and steeled myself toward Main, hoping I wasn't being led into a trap.


	6. Liam

**Joan's POV**

Once I reached the coffee shop, I didn't enter right away. I stayed on the opposite side of the street, scanning through the window. Nothing seemed to be out of place. I took a deep breath and clutched my phone, making sure it was within my reach in case I had to make a quick phone call.

A little bell dinged as I entered the shop, my eyes scanning the patrons. It didn't take me long to notice a young man sitting alone in the corner, with a small coffee in front of him and a bag on the ground. He caught my eyes and nodded, his sandy blonde hair falling in his eyes. I walked over slowly, glancing over his body in an effort to detect a weapon. He smiled as I sat across from him.

"Don't worry, Joan. There is a knife concealed within my boot, but I won't be using it on you." His sharp blue eyes bore into mine and I almost looked away. Almost.

"What do you want?"

"I got your number from your hospital file, by the way. They really need to be more careful with patient's files. They could get…leaked to the wrong source." He took a sip from his coffee then looked at my empty hands. "Thirsty?"

"No, thank you. Why did you call me and not Sherlock?"

"I knew that he would get quickly defensive about Moriarty. I needed to talk to someone who hasn't had contact with Moriarty."

"Why?"

"You're just full of questions aren't you?" He chuckled.

"Give me a reason not to call Sherlock right now. Give me a reason not to call the police."

"Okay, okay," he held his hands up in surrender, but his tone said he wasn't worried. He leaned forward on his arms and looked at nothing but me.

"Yes, it's true. I worked with Moriarty. But not anymore."

"Not anymore? Why?"

"Let's just say we had a…conflict of interest." He scoffed a bit and I could see a flash of hurt on his face.

"What happened?"

He narrowed his eyes. "That's none of your concern. All you need to know is that I'm not working with Moriarty anymore."

"He seemed pretty concerned about you when he asked us to find you." I stated. His eyes shot up to mine in surprise.

"He?"

"Yes…he." I said, confused.

"Hmm. _He's_ good." Liam laughed.

"I'm confused." I admitted.

"It's nothing." He suddenly reached toward his bag and I scooted away a little. Noticing my reaction, he stopped. "Do you really think I'd attack you in the middle of a crowded coffee shop?"

"You've worked with Moriarty. I don't know what kind of stunts you'd pull." I said, cursing my voice for shaking. He smiled again.

"Touché." He reached into his bag and pulled out a manila file. He slid it over to me slowly, almost like he was mocking me.

I grabbed it from him, glaring. He laughed then, a truly full laugh.

"You're an interesting woman, Ms. Watson. No wonder Sherlock keeps you around." His eyes sparkled as he scanned my face. "I may have to speak with you more often. Aren't you going to open it?"

He gestured toward the file I held in my hands. I looked at him one more time before opening the cover. An array of pictures was stuffed inside. I gently took the first one in the pile, noticing it was a picture of a hotel.

"If I had to guess, that's where Moriarty is now. He had to vacate his other premises earlier because of…unexpected complications."

"What complications?" I asked, my eyes flickering up to meet his. I recoiled when I noticed he hadn't looked away from me.

"I may have…released his location to someone that could potentially harm him and his operation."

"So…you betrayed him. And he still wants you found?" I asked.

"I suppose he wants me found so he can kill me himself. I enjoy my life thank you very much."

I flipped through the other pictures. Some were places, others were people.

"I don't necessarily know who they are. All I know is that they are connected to Moriarty in some way. You could run them through your facial recognition program or something to find out who they are."

I closed the file slowly and looked up at him, scanning his face.

"Why are you helping us?"

He didn't answer immediately. "Because…because I know what Moriarty is capable of. And I know that Sherlock Holmes is at the top of his hit list. But you should know…"

He leaned forward and I automatically leaned toward him, not caring that he was supposedly an enemy.

"Moriarty doesn't strike the way anyone else would. He doesn't march right into the battle and pull the trigger. He cuts. Shallow at first and then deeper. And there are other ways to hurt a person then hurting them directly."

"I know." I whispered.

"You got lucky earlier. Moriarty only wanted to scare. But once he realizes how close you actually are to Holmes, your name will be bumped up his hit list."

"I'm pretty sure I'm already high up there."

"And you're still working with Holmes because?" He raised his eyebrow.

"I won't tell you that unless you tell me why you betrayed Moriarty." I stated. He grinned.

"You drive a hard bargain, Joan." He leaned back in his chair. Suddenly, his phone dinged and he glanced at the message displayed on the screen. He grimaced, then ice blue eyes stared at me.

"I found you on the street. I dragged you in here by force and threatened to hurt you if you tried to get away. Trust me, I'm helping your relationship with Holmes right now."

"What?" I asked.

"Keep the file. You'll need it." He stood, slipping his bag over his shoulder.

"Where are you going? Who texted you?" I demanded.

"You did not come here of your own free will. Understand? That way, it's easier for the both of us."

"Why?" I asked, but he was already walking away. He stopped at the door and glanced back at me. Winking, he slipped out and I quickly lost him in the crowd. I jogged for the door and threw it open, stepping out into the throng of people. I turned the way Liam went but two strong hands suddenly grabbed my shoulders.

"Joan! Are you alright?" Sherlock's face was suddenly millimeters from mine.

"Sherlock? How did you find me?"

He looked me up and down and I saw Gregson and Bell running up to us from behind him.

"Is she alright?" Gregson asked, out of breath.

"What happened?" I asked again, looking at all of their concerned faces.

"Moriarty sent us another call." Bell spat.

"He…he said that Barwright had you. That you were in danger." Sherlock breathed, his hands still clutching my arms.

"I'm fine, he - " I suddenly remembered Liam's words. "He just grabbed me off the street. I thought I could run away but then he pulled a knife, I'm sorry -"

"Don't be sorry." Sherlock stated, finally letting me go. I thought I saw him look up at something above us, but in a split second he was looking at me again.

"What did he say to you?" Bell asked, eyeing the folder in my hands.

"He said he wasn't working with Moriarty anymore…and he gave me this." I handed the file to Gregson. "He said he thinks the first picture is where Moriarty is hiding now, and that all the people have some sort of connection to Moriarty."

"Did he say anything about the robberies?" Gregson asked.

I shook my head. "No."

"What the hell is going on." Bell groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"You two should get home, get some rest. Especially you, Ms. Watson." Gregson looked at Sherlock pointedly and it was like a message passed between the two of them with just that look.

"Of course. Come Watson, I'm escorting you home." Sherlock gently grabbed my elbow as he waved down a cab.

"We'll look through these and contact you if we find anything." Gregson said, waving the file in the air.

"Sounds good, detective." Sherlock said, opening the cab door for me. I was quick to get in, with Sherlock sitting beside me. After Sherlock gave the cabbie our address, I expected his shoulders to relax. But they didn't.

"What's wrong?" I asked, gently touching his hand. He jolted a bit at the sudden contact but when I looked in his eyes he didn't look angry. He looked sad. He didn't answer me. In fact, he didn't say a word to me until we were both inside the Brownstone and the door was closed behind us.

"Barwright didn't corner you on the street, did he?" He asked, looking anywhere but me.

"What?"

"You lied. Barwright didn't threaten you. He was the man you talked to on the phone. You went to him willingly."

I slid away, but his tone didn't sound like he was accusing me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"You could have gotten killed." Sherlock whispered.

"But I didn't. And I knew he wouldn't have met with me if I had told any of you. We had to get that link to Moriarty." I explained, hoping he'd see it my way. He pinched the bridge of nose, a common thing he did when he was trying to control his anger. Finally, he looked at me.

"I need you to promise me. I need you to promise me that if he contacts you again, you tell me."

"And if he tells me to meet again? Alone?"

"You still tell me. There are ways for the NYPD to monitor _secret_ meetings."

"He's good, Sherlock. Someone texted him saying that you were coming. He has friends, too."

He grabbed my hands suddenly, and pulled me closer to him.

"Joan. We can't believe anything Liam says right now. He says he's not working for Moriarty, but what if he is? What if he's lying? What if this is all a set up? We have to think about every situation. Someone was watching Liam. Either it was Moriarty or someone else because Moriarty knew that you were with him. I'm guessing he used the security cameras, hmm? Didn't think that you could be seen on those by someone, or I don't know, Moriarty? That maybe, Liam knew you'd be seen? That both he and Moriarty were lying?"

His voice practically raised in octaves as he ranted. I had thought he looked at something when we were standing on the street. If Moriarty had control of security cameras in New York City, I didn't want to think about all that he was able to see.

"He didn't look like he was lying." I muttered, remembering Liam's cold blue eyes.

"Do I ever look like I'm lying?" Sherlock spat.

"To me? Sometimes." I snipped. I was getting angry now and I could tell he was, too.

"Well, you're the exception!" He yelled, letting go of my hands and pacing back and forth. I looked at him carefully, a bit surprised by the outburst. He turned away from me, and rubbed his eyes. Finally, after a couple long beats of silence, he turned toward me again with his eyes downcast.

"You're the exception. I've found it's very difficult for other people to realize what I'm thinking. But you - " He motioned toward me but didn't continue.

"I see right through you." I finished.

"Yes." He whispered. I stepped forward and lifted his chin so that his eyes met mine.

"Sherlock. When I agreed to be your partner, I knew what I was getting into. I knew the danger. I promised to stay with you through thick and thin. So, this whole thing with Moriarty? I'm here. For the whole thing, understand? I'm not leaving you alone with this."

"Why haven't you left?" He asked, his voice making him sound like a little boy.

"I'm your friend." I stated, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

His eyes were like laser beams, cutting into me. We stayed like that for a moment, until he finally smiled.

"Thank you. But please…no more lies. No more secrets. You're…you mean a lot to me Joan. I can't lose anyone else." I could see the pain of losing Irene in his eyes, and I smiled.

"You're not going to lose me."

He was silent for a moment. Then, "Say it again."

I looked at him sadly and took his face in my hands. "You are not going to lose me. No matter what."

He took a deep breath and finally the tension seemed to drain from his face.

"Get some rest, Joan I'll wake you if Gregson calls."

"Okay." I whispered, dropping my hands. "You should look more into the security camera idea. Somehow Moriarty saw us. So he knows that Liam's alive. This whole deal just got blown open." Sherlock nodded, agreeing. Now that Moriarty knew that Liam was alive, what did that mean for us? He could possibly find Liam all by himself now. Which raised the question…why did Liam blow his cover? He was safe, especially if Moriarty couldn't find him.

I shook my head, trying to even out all the questions bouncing around in my head. Climbing the stairs, I looked over my shoulder as Sherlock started flipping through the files that he'd probably looked through plenty of times already. I smiled at him and shut myself in my room, the exhaustion finally getting to me. I changed into lighter clothes and set my alarm before climbing into my bed. I was almost drifting off to sleep when my phone dinged, singling a message. I grabbed my phone roughly, annoyed at the interruption.

_If you get out now, you won't become Irene._

I shot up quickly, my breath quickening. I scrolled through my recent calls and compared the numbers, but it wasn't the number that Liam called me from.

I texted back. _Who is this?_

_ You may call me Moriarty. _

I almost called for Sherlock. I almost ran downstairs and handed him the phone so that he could deal with it.

_What happens if I don't get out?_

I waited with baited breath for his response.

_You get hurt._

That's when I yelled.

**Thank you all who have been reading! I want to keep this going with a full force, that's why there's so many cliffhangers. XD I promise there will be some more "laid low" chapters and that all of these things I'm throwing at you will make sense! The flower, the robberies, Liam, Moriarty…a large puzzle that will be put together. :) I'm planning for this to be a longer story, so be prepared for many chapters. As always, please read, review and enjoy!**


	7. Fight

** Thank you all for reading and reviewing! :D You are all so wonderful!**

** Sherlock****'s POV**

"This is getting me nowhere." I groaned, throwing the file that was in my hands to the ground. Rubbing my eyes, I forced myself to breathe and calm down. I thought about what we knew.

Moriarty was searching for Liam Barwright, either to reconcile or to kill him.

Liam Barwright claims that he is no longer associated with Moriarty for unknown reasons.

There are possibly numerous bombs being made at this very instant.

There was a dead man in an alleyway that is somehow connected to this case.

Joan is upstairs in bed, safe and sound.

"Sherlock!"

Or at least I thought she was. At the sound of her voice, I jumped up the stars three at a time and almost fell over my own feet. I saw her door fling open and the soft thuds of her feet hitting the ground. We were both moving at such a quick speed that we accidentally ran right into each other. I wrapped my arms around her waist to steady us and to keep us from falling back down the stairs.

"Joan! What's wrong!" I quickly scanned her body, looking for any physical damage. Instead, I found her wide fear-filled eyes and she thrust her cellphone, that was currently clutched in a death grip in her hand, into my face.

"Look," I grabbed her phone and read the short conversation that was illuminated. My blood froze.

"You haven't noticed anything else unusual lately? Nothing is out of place in your room?"

"I - I didn't really look."

"Stay here." I ordered, and carefully slid into her room. My quick eyes glanced over her bed and window, searching for any signs of forced entry. When I found none, I threw open her closet doors, poised to strike. When I couldn't find any evidence of a disturbance, I rejoined Joan in the hallway.

"Go down to the kitchen and turn on all the lights. I'm going to call Gregson." She nodded, a bit of her courage returning. I watched her as she padded down the stairs and made the sharp turn into the kitchen. Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I scanned the lower level of the Brownstone from my position, searching for any hostile threat. Gregson picked up on the first ring.

"Holmes. What is it?"

"Moriarty contacted Joan."

"What?" I heard a shuffling of papers and I could only imagine he was standing from his desk.

I took a deep breath before continuing. "He threatened her."

"We're on our way. Stay together." Then the line went dead. I ran down the stairs and found Joan sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in her hand. She whipped her head around when she heard me coming and stood halfway as if she were planning to run.

"It's alright, it's just me." I whispered. She relaxed and sunk back into her chair.

"He's watching everything." She sighed.

"I know. He's known for it." I spat. "Gregson and Bell are on their way."

"Good," she whispered. Her eyes lifted and she found the mess I left in the parlor, her mouth twitching up a notch. "Haven't you looked over all of those at least eight times already?"

"Nine, actually." I joked. Her grin didn't grow, however.

"How did he get my number?" She asked. I thought she was just talking to herself, but then her eyes settled on mine and I realized she was looking for an actual answer.

"Well, there's plenty of ways he could have. One, which I believe is most likely true, is that Barwright gave it to him, assuming that Barwright is still working with Moriarty. The other option is that Moriarty has inside people elsewhere, which is also likely possible."

Joan shook her head. "Would you yell at me if I said that I didn't think Barwright was working with Moriarty?"

I glanced at her, a small flicker of anger flipping through me. I wasn't angry at the fact that she was disagreeing with me…but I couldn't figure why I was actually angry.

"Why do you think he's telling the truth?" I asked, my voice quiet.

"He just…he looked truthful. When I asked why he wasn't working with Moriarty anymore, he had a true look of hurt on his face. Moriarty did something to him, Sherlock. Something bad." Her gaze struck to my heart, and I squirmed under it. She saw Liam as she saw me. Her gentle heart saw a broken man who needed help. For some odd reason, the fact that she was concerned about Liam made me squirm.

"I do not doubt your judgment of character. But I do doubt Liam Barwright."

"Why?"

"He meddled with Moriarty. We can't trust anyone who deals with him."

"You dealt with him." She shot back.

"I was not in league with him. I fought against him, there's a difference."

She took a sip of her tea. "I suppose. But I still believe Liam. Maybe once Gregson runs some of those faces we'll get a better idea of what to think of him."

"Maybe." I answered. We were silent for a moment, the only sound echoing throughout the brownstone being my foot tapping the ground.

"Do you trust me?" My head shot toward her, my eyes widening.

"Of course I -"

"Do you _trust_ me?" She asked again, interrupting me. All traces of fear were gone from her eyes as she stared at me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, honestly confused. This woman was a maze of puzzles that even I couldn't completely put together.

"Do you trust my judgement? Do you trust me to handle this case, being how close it is to you?"

I forced myself to stare at her, my heart beat increasing. She was not the first person to ask me this question. When others would ask me, it would take me a while to actually respond honestly. But with Joan, it took me a mere few seconds.

"Yes. I do trust you."

She searched my face, searching for a lie. After a few seconds, she finally looked pleased. Finally, peace.

"I trust you, too, you know."

And my brain starts whirring again because of something she says.

"What?"

It seemed like I was the one asking the questions and that she was the controlling the conversation. The idea was foreign to me, and I squirmed in my seat.

"I trust you. I trust you to take care of this and I trust your instincts."

"Thank you." I muttered, a rare flush coming to my cheeks. She smiled and held her hand out.

"Can I have my phone back?"

"Oh, um, yes. If he contacts you again - "

"I'll let you know."

I grinned at her and placed her phone in her outstretched hand. Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door.

"Holmes! Watson!" I leapt from my chair and practically skipped to the front door, looking through the peep hold quickly. Joan followed slowly behind, her arms wrapped around her in a protective gesture. I noticed the outlines of Gregson and Bell and quickly unlocked the door.

"Come in, come in." I ushered them inside and noticed that a storm was brewing. What a setting.

"Do you have the messages?" Gregson asked Joan gently.

"Here." She handed over her phone and Gregson quickly scrolled through them, his face darkening.

"That's definitely a threat."

I stood next to Joan and could feel her shivers. I couldn't tell if they were because of being cold or fear, but I slid an arm around her anyway. She jolted a bit in surprise, but she soon relaxed. Bell caught her quick movement and stared at my arm which was around her waist, but he didn't say anything.

"Did you guys find anything with the pictures?" Joan asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"Not quite. We have a girl running them at the precinct."

My heart leap. "You have someone else working this case?"

Bell was quick to defend her. "She's good, Holmes. Don't worry. She's on our side. Her name's Lauren, she's one of our tech operatives. She's one of the best, graduated at the top of her class at MIT."

"Does it matter what her rank was?" I muttered.

"She's read in. At least, we read her in in what we thought she should know. She was the only I could think of that could help us."

"That _you_ could think of?" I shot a gaze at Bell, but I tried to keep my frustration in check. Lauren was now another person that could be on Moriarty's hit list. Bell opened his mouth to respond, but his phone sent a gentle chime from his pocket.

Rolling his eyes at me, he slid the phone out of his pocket. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he slid his finger across the screen.

"Lauren, did you find anything?"

We stared as a voice fluttered over the line.

"Are you serious? Thanks, Lauren, really. I'll talk to you later."

Bell looked up at us once he hung up. "She found the guy in the alleyway."

"Really?" Gregson's eyebrows raised.

"Says his name is Edward Maks."

"How did she find him, but when we ran him before we couldn't find anything?" Joan asked.

"She said she ran another program that isn't exactly…legal." He glanced at Gregson, who had a small smile on his face.

"By this point, I really don't care."

"She found names on other people, but that's it. She has no idea how they could be involved with Moriarty."

I rubbed my eyes for the second time that night, and moaned. We were going in circles.

"What do we do now?" Joan asked, glancing up at me. Her face grew concerned.

"We can send this conversation in for an official investigation. He didn't directly say that he was going to hurt you, but he did say that you _could_ get hurt, so that at least warrants a look into it. I'm not sure how far it could go though. It's only going to get us some police resources for a little while." Gregson responded. We were silent for a moment, as Gregson began to send a message to someone at the precinct.

"What if I contacted Liam?" Joan's voice was small, but it was electric.

"What?" I seethed, letting my arm fall from her. Her steely gaze met mine.

"I could ask him what his relationship was with Edward Maks. I bet he was going to tell me more when we met at the coffee shop, so why don't I give him a chance?"

"Absolutely not - " I started.

"Why not? If he's willing to help, why don't we let him?" Bell asked.

"No." I stated again.

"Do you trust me?" Joan asked again, her hand finding my chest. I took deep breaths and glared at her, wondering what the hell was going though her head. I didn't want to drag her any farther into this than she already was. But I knew she wasn't going to back down, so I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose.

"Fine. But we monitor the conversation."

"Okay." She agreed, nodding. Gregson handed her back her phone and she found the number that Liam had called her from. I fished out my phone and turned on the recorder, holding it in the air.

"Ready?" She asked. I nodded. She hit the call button and the ominous ringing filled the air. No one spoke. For a minute, I thought he wouldn't pick up. But finally, there was a loud click. "You have a lot of courage to call me, Joan."

"We need your help." Joan's voice was clear and I was surprised that it didn't waver.

"I already gave you the file. What more could you want?"

"All you did was give us names. Not how their involved. We also know about Edward Maks."

Liam let out a slight chuckle. "Ah, of course. I felt bad leaving him there, but his killers had already run off, and I wasn't going to let Moriarty find me mourning over a comrade."

My eyes shot up to meet Gregson's wide eyes.

"You were friends?" Joan asked.

"You could say that. More like coworkers. We had just been working together longer than most. Trust me, the people who murdered Edward, while being enemies of you, are also enemies of Moriarty."

"Who are they?"

Liam was silent for a moment. "Why don't you ask your pal, Sherlock? You'd remember them Holmes, you worked a case with them."

I didn't respond.

"Come now, Sherlock, I know Joan wouldn't call me alone. She's not that stupid. They call themselves The Nine Ravens."

My mind flashed back to a case I worked while working with Scotland Yard. I nodded at Joan.

"Yes, I remember." I spoke.

"The Nine Ravens were known for large robberies and quick killings. As their name states, there's only nine of them."

"Only nine?" Joan asked, disbelief in her tone. "And they pulled off some large robberies?"

"They're good. And while they're also evading the police, they have interrupted some of Moriarty's projects before. And that did not make him happy."

"I suppose not," I answered. "Are they on his hit list?"

"They are. But they aren't as high up as some others."

"Meaning me?" I whispered, my tone thick. Liam laughed.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes. You practically have your own list."

"Why should we trust you." I finally spat, ignoring the glare from Joan.

"I could have easily killed your girl today, Sherlock. Why didn't I? Because I'm switching sides. Is that difficult to do in my position? Yes, yes it is. But I'm trying. I want to help _you, _not Moriarty."

"Why the switch?" I asked. I didn't necessarily enjoy him calling Joan "my girl" but I didn't let it phase me.

"Like I told Joan earlier, that's none of your concern. But if you really want my help, you have to trust me. Do you trust me, Mr. Holmes?"

Joan glanced at me, her eyes piercing. I didn't, and I think Liam knew I didn't, but Joan was right. As much as I hated it, we needed him.

"I do." Joan's eyes only widened the slightest bit in surprise.

"Good. All of you, including Gregson and Bell, meet me at that hotel in that first picture in fifteen minutes. Moriarty's already moved on, but we may be able to pick up some clues."

"Why are you calling all the shots?" I wondered, ignoring the fact that he knew Gregson and Bell were here.

"Do you have a better place to start?"

I gritted my teeth. "Not at the moment."

"Then we'll start there. I'm a reasonable person, Mr. Holmes, but I will also put up a fight when I need to." There was a smile in his tone and it made me shiver.

"I hope we're fighting against the same person." I muttered.

"Oh we always will." Liam agreed. "It just comes down to the person we're fighting _for_, Mr. Holmes. I'll see you there. It was nice talking to you again, Joan."

I clutched the phone in my hand tighter and glanced up at her. Her mouth hung open in a small "oh".

"Same here, Liam." She finally whispered. Suddenly, the line went dead and it seemed like a weight was lifted from the room.

"He seems to have taken a liking to you, Ms. Watson," Gregson sighed.

"Yeah," She responded.

"Well," I stated, breaking the awkward conversation. "Let's get going if we want to meet him there, the hotel is not a very short distance away."

I looked quickly at Joan one last time and jumped up the stairs to my room, closing the door behind me. Why was my breathing not controlled? Why was I practically seeing red everywhere I looked?

_It just comes down to the person we're fighting for, Mr. Holmes._

Who was I fighting for?

Irene?

Myself?

Joan?

My breath hitched again.

_I'm a reasonable person, Mr. Holmes, but I will also put up a fight when I need to._

Who would he fight? Moriarty? Me?

_It was nice talking to you again, Joan._

And there's the red again.

I shoved my hands on my eyes, trying to force myself to calm down. Why did I care if he had taken a liking to her? She had a kind soul and gentle heart, many people were drawn to her. But then I thought about how I felt when Bell and I found Joan in the building after she was attacked. I had felt flustered, angry, scared…

There was a knock on my door.

"Sherlock? Are you ready? We've got to get going."

And suddenly the sound of her voice calmed me.

"Be there in a moment." I responded, and I heard her soft footfalls fade away. And as I longed for her come back, I finally realized something.

Yes, I was fighting for Irene.

Yes, I was fighting for myself.

But damn, I'd be lying to myself if I said I wasn't mostly fighting for her.

**Thank you all for the kind reviews! It's made writing this story so much more fun! As always, please read, review, and enjoy!**


	8. Brother

**Thank you all for the kind reviews! :D Also, the end of the season? WHAT. THE. CRAP. WHAT IS GOING ON. I'm sorry for anyone who likes Mycroft and Joan…but I can't do it. Not only because I REALLY want Sherlock and Joan together it's just…it just seems wrong. Also, because of all the new developments in the show, Mycroft and many other people will be making an appearance! I may even make a love square…it shall be fun. And I have a completely new way to take the story and I'm EXCITED. Whoo! Love you all!**

**Sherlock's POV**

The ride over to the hotel was silent. For some reason, the air felt like it could have been cut with a knife. Gregson drove with Bell in the front seat, so that left Joan and I to slide in the back. I felt like I was being suffocated by something and I took deep breaths to calm myself. What was happening to me?

Was I full of anticipation for we finally had a lead on Moriarty, no matter how flimsy it was? Was I full of dread because we were meeting Liam there?

I stole a glance at Joan who was busy gazing out the window. She didn't seem as tense as I was, but she didn't seem completely relaxed either. I tried to read her face, her motions. As if something about her would give me access to her thoughts that I'm sure were rushing through her head. But her face was passive, and her hands stayed still on her lap. What was she thinking? When had she become the one puzzle I couldn't quite figure out?

I shut my eyes tightly and turned to mirror Joan's position. The landscape passed quickly, with Gregson driving well above the speed limit. The sky had quietly begun to rain and the small droplets glided down the car windows. I watched the droplets absentmindedly before the car stopped suddenly.

"We're here. Looks like Liam is already here." Gregson pointed toward the main door and sure enough, a man was standing under the canopy.

"That's Liam," Joan confirmed. I stepped out of the car quickly, and stood tall. I didn't want this man to think I was weak by any means. Walking around to the other side of the car, I stood near Joan, as Gregson and Bell flanked us, hands on their guns. We walked like a pack up to him, Liam smirking at us.

"I'm not going to start throwing knifes or anything. You don't need to come in a herd." He chuckled.

"Show us the room." Bell demanded. Liam's eyes narrowed.

"I believe we should introduce first. I've only personally met Joan." His eyes warmed as they passed over her and he reached out and grabbed her hand. I flinched, almost reaching out my own arm to pull her away as Gregson and Bell jumped for the guns. Yet, all he did was give her hand a slight kiss. My blood boiled.

"It's, um…it's nice to see you again, too, Liam," Joan breathed. I glared at her. She was acting like a school girl with a first crush. But what if that was what it was? A crush?

"Detectives Gregson and Bell I assume?" He asked next, breaking me from my reverie.

"Gregson," He stuck his hand out carefully and watched with careful eyes as Liam shook it. Bell acted in the same manner. Finally, his eyes settled on me.

"Which makes you the great Sherlock Holmes."

"Like you didn't already know who I was." I responded a bit bitterly. Joan elbowed me in the chest.

"Oh, I know who you are. We've just never met." He extended his hand and after a beat of no movement I gave it one hard shake, then pulled away.

"Excellent. Now, this way. I made sure that the room wasn't rented out again, so it's ours for the night." We followed him as he walked into the hotel, his hands deep into the pockets of the black pea coat he was wearing. I kept my distance, and resisted the urge to pull Joan closer to me.

He led us to the elevators and pressed the up button.

"You're not going to have a heart attack if you're close to me in an enclosed space, are you Holmes?" Liam smirked over his shoulder at me. I just glowered at him.

We stepped into the open cab as the elevator arrived, allowing Liam to stand toward the front. The only sound was of my foot tapping.

The hotel was large, but thankfully we didn't pass anyone as Liam led us throughout the tenth floor towards a room at the end of the hall.

"This is it. 1032." He produced a key card from his pocket and inserted it into the slot. Slowly, he pushed the door open after the light turned green.

I followed after him as he flipped the lights on. As I predicted, the room was bare, but the drawers were still out - meaning someone had left quickly.

"Hmm. Should've known he would've taken everything. And I mean _everything_." Liam breathed.

"Well, yes. He's an intelligent man, why wouldn't he?" I looked at him as he gave me an inquisitive look. Finally, he smirked.

"Looks like you think the same thing."

"What?" I pushed. "If you know something we don't, I suggest you bring the information forward. For your own sake."

Liam laughed. "It's not a big deal, Holmes. It's just that earlier when I was speaking with Joan in the coffee shop, she made an assumption. And it seems you have, too."

He walked around the small kitchen as the rest of our group headed out of earshot.

"What assumption?" I demanded as he looked through a stack of papers that were left on the table. Nothing incriminating, I was sure of that. Finally, he spoke.

"Why do you assume Moriarty is a man?"

The question took me off guard.

"Well, for starters, it is a male voice that I have spoken to on the phone - "

"Have you ever heard of voice modulators? I'm surprised you haven't even used one, given your line of work." Liam leaned on the counter, a small smile gracing his face. I pursed my lips, thinking over the idea. I had always assumed that Moriarty was a male, and never even began to think that Moriarty might be female.

"He's killed people. With his own hands. Unless this "female" is a trained assassin, I doubt Moriarty is female."

Liam was silent for a moment. "What if she was an assassin? Or something like it?"

I stared into his face, seeing only regret there. "Have you met Moriarty?"

His lips twitched. "No."

A lie.

"So how do you know that Moriarty is a female?"

"I'm just saying it's a possibility." He threw his hands in the air in light surrender. "You can't deny any possibility until you can absolutely rule it out to be false."

My jaw twitched. Unfortunately, he was right. There was no proof of Moriarty either being male or female. I groaned.

"What?" Joan asked, walking into the living room.

"Our search just got a whole lot larger," I muttered.

"Why?"

"…we overlooked a possibility." I spat, glaring at Liam. All he did was smirk at me as he opened the fridge, looking for clues.

"Which is?"

"Moriarty could be female."

A beat. "Damn."

"There's nothing in the bedrooms. Anything over here?" Bell asked, dragging his feet into the living room. I could tell he was exhausted, and I wished I could tell him to go home and rest. It had been a long night for all of us. After a quick shake of my head to Bell, I started searching the living room as Bell returned to Gregson. Joan meandered into the kitchen where Liam was.

"Hey, Liam?" She suddenly asked. I strained my ears but didn't turn around.

"Yeah?"

"What do you know about a series of robberies that have taken place recently in hardware stores?"

"Oh yeah, I heard about those. I didn't do them if that's what your asking. Those would be done by other bad guys of Moriarty's team."

"Moriarty is behind the robberies?"

"Yeah, he…or she…told me something about it when I was still working with him…her…dammit."

Joan laughed. "How about we just call Moriarty 'him' for now?"

"Please and thank you."

They both chuckled and I wanted nothing more than to throw the vase I was holding at his head.

"So, you didn't have any part in the robberies?" She asked again.

"No. Why is the NYPD so concerned about them? Not that I know why Moriarty is robbing hardware stores but…"

"We think, by looking at the items that were stolen, that…that bombs are being made."

It was silent for a moment.

"You mean to say that Moriarty is making bombs? For what?"

"We're not sure. But if you know _for sure_ that Moriarty is behind the robberies…"

"I just heard him talk about robberies. I can't promise it's the same thing."

Joan sighed. "Then we'll just have to work under the idea that Moriarty is behind all of it. What were you and Edward doing then?"

"We were supposed to be Moriarty's little birdies. We run around collecting as much evidence as we could, and cover up any instance that went wrong.. The Nine Ravens was one of those instances."

Liam's voice grew cold. I could tell Joan was careful going into her next sentence.

"What happened?"

"They had messed up another one of Moriarty's deals…again. One of the robberies, I assume. They interrupted it and almost got her man caught."

I discretely remembered one of the robberies in upstate Maine. Authorities almost caught the pulpit but he safely rode away in a get away car.

"Moriarty was angry, so he asked us to deal with them. Unfortunately, they were ready for us. We were planning on backing them up into a corner - "

"All nine of them? Two against nine, were you crazy?" Joan burst out. I gritted my teeth while Liam just laughed.

"We had backup, Joanie. They were just hidden."

I set the vase down quickly. He had no right to give her nicknames.

"Oh." She responded.

"Anyway, we were entering that alleyway when suddenly shots were fired. They missed me but…but they got Edward pretty quick. I didn't want to leave him behind, he was my friend…but I had to keep alive. That was when I realized that I had a way to get out of Moriarty's clutches."

"You had wanted to leave?"

"Definitely. Like I said before, we had conflicting interests. I needed to get away. And now…I'm here. With the better side."

I could just see his slick grin. I opened a drawer for the third time, just trying to draw out time.

"I don't think anything is going to magically appear in there, Holmes." I jumped at bit at Gregson's low voice. Liam and Joan continued to chatter in the kitchen, but I ignored them.

"I know." I shut the door, sighing.

"What's up with you? You seem…distracted." He said, opening a cabinet that I had checked and checked again. A distraction.

"I'm fi - "

"Don't say you're fine, because you're not. Ever since we brought Liam into this whole thing you've been like a fuse ready to explode. What's going on?"

His eyes bore into mine and after a bit I had to look away. My eyes betrayed me though as I glanced quickly at the kitchen.

"Oh, I get it." Gregson laughed softly.

"There's nothing to get." I mumbled, crouching to the ground to look at the coffee table…again. Gregson joined me.

"You're jealous." My hands stopped examining the table leg.

"I am not jealous."

"Yes, you are. You're jealous that Liam likes Joan. Maybe you're even angrier at the fact that Joan seems to enjoy him, too."

"She doesn't enjoy him," I spat. "She just doesn't believe he's a bad guy."

A smirk appeared on Gregson's mouth. "You're totally jealous."

"What would I have to be jealous about?" I asked, turned on him. "It's not like Joan and I are romantically involved or anything."

Gregson raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be jealous because your partner was taking interest in another guy that was smart. I never said anything about being romantically involved. Is that what's really going on? You love her and you're jealous that she's talking to another guy?"

I didn't respond. I wasn't in love with Joan. How could I be? The only woman I had ever loved was dead.

But as I looked up and saw the large smile on her face as Liam made a joke, my heart constricted and my face became hot. Gregson laid a hand gently on my arm.

"A word of advice. She's a great woman. And I can tell that you like her, I mean, you look like a kicked puppy," I glared at him, but he barreled on, looking me straight in the eyes. "Don't let her go. Fight for her."

He stood then, joining Bell who walked out of the bedrooms for the second time.

"There's nothing here." He sighed.

"Well, what do we do now?" Joan asked. Her eyes were no longer on Liam, but on me. I sighed, trying to think after Gregson's words sent my brain into a frenzy.

"I…I don't know."

Suddenly, my phone began to ring.

"Sherlock Holmes." I muttered.

"You're not going to find anything there."

My grip tightened. "Moriarty."

Joan's eyes widened, and she quickly brought out her phone and began recording. My eyes never leaving Liam, I put the phone on speaker.

"Let me speak to Liam."

Liam shook his head quickly.

"It doesn't seem like he wants to speak with you." I spat.

"Then hear me, Liam. If you do not come back to me, I swear. I will kill you and all your new little friends."

"You can't scare me," Liam responded in anger. "You can't hurt everyone."

I glanced at him quickly, remembering my words from earlier. Moriarty laughed.

"You and Sherlock are more alike than you could ever imagine."

"I won't return to you, Moriarty. You're on your own now."

"Oh Liam, I'm not on my own. You should know that by now."

Liam just scowled.

"You should all head home. There's a surprise waiting." The line went dead, but the air was heavy.

"Oh, great." Joan muttered.

We raced out of the room, Liam explaining that he'd meet us at the Brownstone. I didn't realize until we actually got out of the car that we never told him where it was, but he was there, waiting by the front door.

"I suggest the men with guns go first." He stepped out of the way for Gregson and Bell to creep through the front door. We waited a bit, until we heard Gregson yell,

"Freeze!"

Bell suddenly appeared in the doorway. "You guys can come in, but there's someone here."

"Who?" I asked, ascending the stairs.

"I don't know. Never seen him before in my life."

I kept Joan behind me and stepped into the warm confines of our home.

"In the parlor!" Following Gregson's voice, we entered the room. Seeing the man, I stopped suddenly, Joan bumping into me from behind.

"Sherlock, what the hell - "

"Hello, dear boy." The man said.

My breath came staggered.

"Holmes, you know this guy?" Gregson asked.

"You can lower your weapon. He's not going to harm us."

"Who is he?" Joan asked, eying him. He hadn't changed a bit, with his gangly frame and blonde, almost white, hair. Even his pointed face was the same.

"Everyone, I'd like to introduce Mycroft Holmes. My brother."

Joan gave me an incredulous look and even Liam's eyes widened.

"It's good to see you again, Sherlock." The words were like acid coming from his mouth.

"Yes. What a surprise, indeed."

**Whoo! Another chapter done! I thought I'd just get Mycroft in here as soon as possible because he has a lot to do for this story. :) I hope you're all still enjoying! As always, please read, review, and enjoy!**


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